The Unfortunate Necessity of Saying Goodbye
by lalala777
Summary: Three moments in the mourning process of Albus Dumbledore, and the one moment that ties them all together. ADMM four-part.
1. Chapter 1

Summary: Three moments in the mourning process of Albus Dumbledore, and the one moment that ties them all together. Part one: Harry

Hey guys – this story is mostly about Minerva McGonagall, and her mourning for Albus Dumbledore. I think the movie makes too big a deal about Harry's grief, and doesn't exactly show how torn up the other characters were. Minerva knew this man for over fifty years, and two and a half wars, while Harry knew him for six. I mean, I know Harry's the main character, but still! Just a little out of proportion, don't you think?

Just in case you can't figure it out for yourselves, this takes place directly after Dumbledore's death (in the movie) in the scene where Minerva attempts to comfort Harry but doesn't succeed. Oh, and kudos to the person who can catch the reference to _A Very Potter Musical_.

Disclaimer: Lots of people do fancy disclaimers, but I only have one thing to say: I, lalala777, do _not _own Harry Potter.

**The Unfortunate Necessity of Saying Goodbye**

**Part one: Harry Potter**

Harry caressed Dumbledore's Wand lightly, looking around the room where he had spent so much time this year, so much time with the beloved Headmaster of Hogwarts.

He reached into the pocket of his robes, wrapping the locket there around his fingers. He had found it was a fake when he threw it against the wall and it cracked open. A message had rolled out, one mocking Voldemort, saying 'he' had found the real locket and planned to destroy it. Now Harry didn't know where the locket was, or who R.A.B was either. Another mystery for Ron, Hermione, and him to solve. Another reason Albus Dumbledore's death was in vain.

The door creaked open, and Harry didn't have to turn around to know who it was. Only three people knew the Headmaster well enough to be let into his office at a time like this. The first, obviously, was Harry himself. The second was Severus Snape, but if Snape knew what was good for him, he'd stay far away from the castle for at least the next few months, if not for the rest of his life. Somehow, though, Harry knew that would be too good to be true. The third, of course, being Minerva McGonagall.

"Potter... in light of what has happened," the professor began in her Scottish lilt, choking a bit on 'happened'. It was as if she couldn't bear to accept the prior death.

Harry turned to face her, his expression blank and full of grief.

"If you should have the need to... talk to someone," she trailed off hesitantly.

Harry couldn't bear it anymore; he stalked quickly towards the door, brushing uncaringly past his professor.

"You should know," she snapped, but her usual sharpness was gone. He turned back to her, truly taking her in for the first time.

At first glance Minerva McGonagall appeared as she normally did. But as Harry looked closer, he noticed the subtle differences that indicated Professor McGonagall was falling apart. Her robes were creased in odd places, as if she had crumpled onto the ground recently. Her face was red, but not from anger. Her emerald eyes, which were, in her old age, probably her best feature, had lost that special glint that Harry had always attributed to her presence. Most noticeably of all being her raven hair, which was almost always pulled back into a tight, severe-looking bun, was falling haphazardly out of said bun, framing her face. If Harry had not fallen so far into his grief, he would've said it made her look remarkably younger.

"Professor Dumbledore..." He realized she had continued speaking, and snapped out of it, so to say.

"You meant a great deal to him," she finished, turning away slightly.

Suddenly, it came to Harry, like an epiphany. Why on earth was he the one crying and carrying on? He had known Dumbledore for six years; McGonagall had known Dumbledore for over half a century! She should be the one lovingly caressing his possessions, the one bent over his broken body as it lie unmoving under the Astronomy Tower. _He _should be comforting _her. _Instead, she stood tall and unmoving, grieving and dropping her stoic act only in private. Harry looked up to the sleeping portrait of Albus Dumbledore, and even lost in the world of dreams, it seemed he approved.

Suddenly, Harry understood.

The boy swooped forward, enveloping Minerva McGonagall in a tight hug.

The Transfiguration professor stood stiffly for a minute, then realized Harry was crying. "Oh Potter... Harry..." she whispered emotionally, then moved carefully and wrapped both her arms tightly around his waist.

Quidditch had done Harry some good physically, giving him enough muscle to unknowingly hoist his professor into the air so her feet dangled inches above the ground. His face buried in the crook between her neck and shoulder, Harry spoke. "Promise me something, Professor?" He murmured into her shoulder.

"Of course, Harry," Minerva swore, her voice heavy with the grief she was finally beginning to show.

"Promise me that you'll always be here. At Hogwarts, I mean," Harry clarified, stepping away slightly, though his arms were still hanging loosely around her waist.

She looked a little confused. "Of course, Harry. But... why?"

Harry sighed and stepped fully away, taking her by the hand like a child leading his mother to the candy store. He led his professor over up the small staircase and around to the little couch the Headmaster had shown him once or twice. Once they had both sat down and made themselves comfortable, he began.

"Do you remember when Umbridge put Professor Dumbledore on the run last year?"

Minerva's hand tightened around his, but she nodded grimly. Then she noticed Harry looking at her with a slightly curious expression. "What?" she asked defensively.

A ghost of a smile flitted across the boy's face. "Nothing." Then, seeing McGonagall's expression, he added, "I just thought you'd correct me with 'Professor Umbridge'."

Minerva looked a bit affronted. "When, Harry, have I ever given you the impression that I believe Dolores Umbridge was an actual professor? I believe teachers must... teach to earn the title," she put delicately.

"How about Snape then?" He mumbled. Then, seeming to realize exactly who he mentioned, he quickly shut his mouth, hoping he hadn't upset his professor.

There was a long silence, then out of the blue, Minerva quickly asked, "What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

"Nothing, they're the same thing," Harry replied automatically, then realized he had been tricked. His mouth opened and closed a few times, resembling a fish.

Minerva smirked triumphantly. "Now, Umbridge?" She prompted.

Harry started. "Oh yeah! Remember what you told me after we dropped Marietta off at the Ravenclaw Tower?"

Professor McGonagall thought for a moment, then shook her head. "I am afraid my memory isn't what it used to be," she explained. She clasped her hands in her lap, looking down.

"You said 'Potter, if you ever need anything, I'll always be here to listen'," Harry quoted quietly. "And then, when we were taking our Astronomy OWLs, you got hit by the stunners, and I realized much those words really meant. And then when I tried to find you later, Madam Pomfrey said you were in St. Mungo's, and I suddenly had to appreciate how you had always been there, unblinkingly, sternly, but always with a sort of love. Without you _and_ Dumbledore, the school was… empty." Harry grew suddenly quiet. It had been a long time since he had gotten on a roll like that.

When he comprehended that Professor McGonagall hadn't said a word, he turned to her. She had tears in her eyes.

"Oh Harry, I don't believe anyone has ever been so kind," she gasped, tears running down her face. "I shall always be at this school, Mr. Potter, as long as it has need for me. As long as I am here to watch over her, Hogwarts will be in good hands," she vowed seriously.

"Good," Harry said firmly. "I couldn't picture anyone other than you or Professor Dumbledore running this school anyway. It'd be complete chaos, Professor."

"Harry, please call me Minerva, we're there." Seeing Harry's stunned and dubious look, she chuckled. "We've reached that point," she clarified. "Besides, I have a feeling I won't be your professor again, or at least not for a few years. We'll probably get caught up together in the middle in the war. I do imagine it must be easier to yell 'Minerva!' than it is to yell 'Professor McGonagall!' if you're trying to save my life."

Harry didn't really listen to that last bit. "How do you know I won't be coming back to Hogwarts?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"Believe it or not, Albus' omnipresent abilities do tend to rub off on a person," she defended, then seemed to remember who had died only hours before. Her smile faded.

As did Harry's. "I've only heard you call him by his first name once before that, you know. It was when I was in the hospital wing in my second year, and I still remember it."

"May I ask why?" Minerva breathed, so low that her Scottish accent was barely palpable. She looked up from her lap with her emerald eyes, matching his own. Matching his mother's.

"Because it was beautiful. Because it was one word, but it was so filled with emotion that even I, a twelve year old, could sense it. Because he _didn't even notice._" Harry bent down to meet her eyes, as she had looked at the floor halfway through his description, her face colored with shame. He took her hands where they rested on her lap and clutched them tightly in his. "Can I ask you something, _Minerva?"_ He questioned.

The Transfiguration professor already seemed to know the question, but only answered in the affirmative.

"Did you _love _him?"

At first she was silent, then she began nodding, quite vigorously, in fact. Then it was a whispered word, a 'yes', and louder and louder, until it was a shout.

"Professor? Are you… Minerva?" Harry tried to get her attention. Then, realizing it wouldn't work, he sat back, watching her let off steam that she had gathered together for… well, that might be a good question to ask, you idiot, Harry chided himself.

When she had calmed down, Harry asked his question. "How long?" He implored simply.

"Since my sixth year at Hogwarts," she replied breathlessly.

The boy's eyes widened. "You were _my _age? You held in love for over fifty years?"

Professor McGonagall gazed at him sternly. "I am glad you think I'm so young, Harry."

Harry blushed lightly. "Let me try that again, then. You held in love for fifteen years?"

McGonagall chuckled. "Always the charmer, Potter. But yes, he was teaching me to become an Animagus, and although I'm sure you've seen pictures, he was quite the handsome wizard back then. We grew close, closer than professor and pupil, closer than even the closest of friends. We confided everything to each other, and somewhere between school and Grindlewald, I fell in love."

"I was going to tell him, you know. Madam Hooch, Professor Sprout, and I planned it. However, it didn't turn out quite the way we imagined."

Harry looked stunned. "He actually turned you down?" He gasped. "I always thought he loved you- I mean, I can't believe _he _could _ever-_"

"No," Minerva interrupted. "Far from it, in fact."

"What happened?" the boy asked, forever curious.

The professor sighed. "I'm afraid that is a story for another time."

Harry nodded in assent, respecting her need for space. "Of course."

Minerva clapped her hands together lightly, then stood. She held out a hand to Harry, and when he had taken it, pulled him off the couch. Apparently having misjudged her strength, he just gazed at her, impressed, for a moment, taking a second to comment on her unnatural muscle.

"Well, Potter," she began, as briskly as ever, "one does not survive two wars purely on magical skill, not even if-"

"-you're the most brilliant and powerful witch of your age?" Harry supplied.

Trying to act unaffected by his flattery, she retorted, "I believe Hermione Granger is the most brilliant witch of her age."

"Ah, but I think we're talking about different ages, Professor."

Minerva said nothing, but led him down the stairs and over to the door. "It's time to seek out your friends, for _he _was dear to all of us, not just you and me. I must confront the staff and decide what needs to be done. _Voldemort _will be taking over the Ministry soon, and we need to make plans for the rest of the school year, while at the same time ward and protect the school for the time being."

"You sound busy," Harry commented.

McGonagall nodded. "Would you send Miss Granger to the staff room? She's to help Professor Sinistra with the… funeral."

Harry gave her one last half smile, then turned to leave. This had certainly been a most interesting experience, but he had to allow himself more time to grieve. The death hadn't truly hit him yet, and he wanted to be alone with pillows and unbreakable items when it did. Maybe the Room of Requirement…

"Oh, and Harry?"

The boy in question turned back around. "Yes, Minerva?"

"I do trust you will not take any liberties with my name. There is only one other student who has permission, and I hope I can trust you as much as I trust her," Professor McGonagall warned.

"I would never abuse that privilege," Harry said seriously, to reassure the slightly frazzled teacher. "Just answer one question: who's the student?"

Minerva smiled genuinely, for the first time that night. "I believe you know her well: Hermione Granger, when she was in her second year."

Harry rolled his eyes, albeit jokingly. "I should have known."

"Remember, Minerva, don't blame yourself for what happened," Harry soothed.

"Quid pro quo," she replied promptly.

Harry looked more than a little confused. "What for what, Harry," she informed gently. "I won't blame myself as long as you don't blame yourself."

"Agreed," Harry nodded, laying a hand on her shoulder and gazing hard into her eyes.

"Good-bye for now, Minerva."

"In case I do not get another chance to tell you so, fare you well, Harry Potter. And remember, all we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us."

"I'll remember," Harry replied softly. Then, very anticlimactically, he turned and walked out the door.

When he was gone, Minerva sank to the floor, unable to stand on her own two feet. Harry had confirmed it, she couldn't deny it; Albus Dumbledore, the man she had loved since she was sixteen, was dead. The one man, in all the Wizarding World, who had understood her, who had been the best, if not exactly the most conventional, friend she had ever had, was gone forever in a flash of green light.

"Oh, Albus," she sighed, her whole body shaking with the force of her anguish, "what am I to do without you?" Then she laughed harshly. "If you were here, you'd tell me to proceed with my life as it was before you came along. But, Albus, you wouldn't understand. There was no life before you came along. No close friends. No immediate family. You wer_-are _my life."

A knock came at the door; Flitwick from the sound of it, asking her to let him in. Minerva snorted. He couldn't get in; Dumbledore's office was surely picky. She stood and smoothed down her crinkled robes. Then, effortlessly pulling her wand from within her sleeve, she waved it wordlessly over her body, instantly tidying her appearance. She had to give off the impression of control, at least a little. Opening the door, she smiled grimly at the short man.

Filius Flitwick shook his head in mock astonishment. "Stern and composed Minerva McGonagall. Not one to shed even a tear."

McGonagall only nodded in reply. "If you only knew," she muttered under her breath.

She had accepted the fact that her best friend, Albus Dumbledore, had truly died only hours ago. That would have to be enough for today.

~HP~HP~HP~

I'm going to skip around with Minerva's grieving process, so hold on tight! Leaving out the less necessary ones, throwing them around in a different order… All for the sake of the plot. I'm such a terrible person, playing with an imaginary person's feelings. This one was denial, in case anybody was curious.

Anyone catch the famous quote? Check again if you didn't! There will be one in the last three parts too, so see if you can pick up on those. I tried to fit in the more well known ones.

Please stay in tune for parts two, three, and four! And review if you get a chance!


	2. Part II: Hermione

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, just this computer. I did use some lines word from word you might recognize from the Half-Blood Prince, specifically from the funeral.

I hope you enjoy!

**The Unfortunate Necessity of Saying Goodbye**

**Part II: Hermione**

Hermione tore down the hall, worried she was to be late. And she respected Albus Dumbledore _way_ too much to be late.

She slowed as she reached the steps that led down into the entrance hall, her dress rustling with every step. As she descended the stairs, she took in the group gathered below with a sweep of her kohl lined eyes.

As morbid as it was to even think, the death of its beloved headmaster had left Hogwarts so unified there was barely a division of house. Except for the older Slytherins, which were probably already Deatheaters, all students were leaning on each other, and from Hermione's point of view, it was truly something beautiful to behold. The teachers, of course, were there also, comforting first years and exchanging sad, lost looks with their colleagues. Only one person did Hermione not see, and that person was Minerva McGonagall.

Harry was standing with Ron, taking care of some particularly depressed Hufflepuffs, when he looked up. Noticing his friend's glazed over look, Ron asked, "What?" Harry just nodded towards the stairs.

The redhead turned, and when he caught sight of what Harry had been staring at, his mouth dropped open. "Wow..."

As more heads turned towards the stairs, the population of Hogwarts was stunned. Hermione Granger slowly made her way down to them, the perfect picture of beautiful devastation. The black silk of her strapless dress clung to her stomach and breasts then fell in folds from her hips, pooling at her feet. She was barefoot, her high heels dangling from the fingers of her left hand. She wore no jewelry, and no makeup excepting her black-lined hazel eyes. Her hair was down and untamed, falling in curls down her back and around her face.

The spell was broken when she reached the bottom of the stairs, blushing from the attention. She made her way towards Harry and Ron, pausing a few times along the way to hug a Slytherin first year and lay a hand on the shoulder of a silently mourning Neville Longbottom.

"Boys," she acknowledged, nodding.

"Hermione," they said in unison. They both wore black dress robes, like most of the male student population. "Ready?" Harry asked, holding out an arm.

"Where's Professor McGonagall?" the girl asked.

"In her rooms; she won't come out," Madame Hooch replied from a few feet away. She turned back to the students. "Now, come everyone, let's go on down..."

"I'll go get her," Hermione told her best friends, handing her shoes to Ron. "Go on and save us a seat in front."

Harry nodded, then impulsively hugged her. "If she needs anything," he began.

"I'll let you know," Hermione finished. "I promise."

She turned away from them, lifting her skirts and taking off towards the Head of Gryffindor apartments.

Reaching to knock on the door, she instead said the password and let herself in. Minerva probably was not in a state to let anyone inside her rooms, preferring to grieve by herself.

"Professor? Minerva?" she called quietly, looking around the elder lady's rooms. She was just about to give up when she heard sniffling noises coming from the bedroom. She slipped through the open door, stunned by what she saw.

There were clothes strewn over every surface, and the only visible thing in the room was the shaking lump in the middle of the bed. Hermione made her way next to her professor, her hand hovering over the silken black hair before descending and stroking it soothingly.

Minerva shot up, feeling the unfamiliar touch. "Oh, Hermione, it's just you." She relaxed, though Hermione had to suppress a flinch at how awful the professor looked.

Everyone knew Minerva McGonagall hadn't been eating, or sleeping, or really anything of the sort. She had sunk into a deep depression, not smiling, _never_ laughing; she wasn't even her normal stern and witty self. Hermione shook her head softly. "Minerva, what's up?" she questioned, gesturing the mess of clothes.

McGonagall blushed lightly. "Trying to find something to wear."

Hermione let a smile slip across her face, "Well, then, let's make you beautiful, then."

Hermione led Minerva off the bed and over to the bathroom, forcing her inside. "Wash your face and calm down," she ordered. "I can transfigure you something."

Moments later, Hermione stuck a dress through the crack in the doorway. Minerva took it, then gave a small exclamation of horror. "Hermione, I'm the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts! I can't wear this! It's positively improper!"

"Correction. You're the Headmistress of Hogwarts and going to your best friend's funeral. _You_ can wear whatever the hell you want." She knew it was harsh, but it was necessary.

A small voice spoke up from the bathroom. "Touché." There was a rustling of fabric, then Minerva stepped out.

The dress, like Hermione's, was black silk. It, however, had off-the-shoulder sleeves made of a gauzy, see-through material and was straight and not exactly clingy, but definitely not puffed out. It was, in short, beautiful and made McGonagall look about twenty years younger.

Hermione forced the older woman down on the stool in front of her vanity and unpinned her hair, beginning to brush her teacher's long locks.

"You know, Professor Dumbledore made me promise him something before he died." She paused. "He said he knew I was close to Harry, closer and more mature than Ron was. He said I was like a daughter to him, that he would never dare attempt to use me." She chuckled. "I said, you're damn right you shouldn't. He laughed and told me he would tell me straight out. He told me I must protect Harry, I must stay with him until the end, even if it meant-"

"-your life," Minerva finished.

"Yes," Hermione whispered. "And I told him, 'Professor, you needn't even ask' and then I cried. He seemed to understand, he hugged me and told me someone told him the same forty years ago. He had done it for the woman he loved during the Grindlewald war, threw himself in front of her..."

_*Flashback*_

_"You must be Minerva McGonagall, my dear. I am told you mean a great deal to a certain Albus Dumbledore. Lovers, maybe? No, silly me, you must be seventy years younger than him!" He lowered his voice. "I shall not let him die, my dear, if you join my ranks. Imagine, we could be great together!"_

_A small grey tabby cat morphed back into a beautiful young woman. "Never!"_

_The man frowned. "Very well, then. Avada Kedavra!"_

_Minerva could only register the weight of a purple-clad arm pushing her back, a voice yelling 'No, Minerva! I lo- Please! Don't leave me!' before she lost conscience._

_*End Flashback*_

"He told you that, did he, my dear?" Minerva asked, surprised.

"Why, yes, why do you ask?" Hermione questioned. "Did you know her?"

But Minerva didn't seem to hear her. "All those years..."

Hermione interrupted her. "Everyone knew you loved Professor Dumbledore, Minerva. And everyone knew he loved you back. You never heard about it because no one really gossiped about it... it was always so obvious. There were no doubts, no questions asked."

"You know," the professor began. "The day I was going to tell him, we were interrupted by a sixth year student. I had gone to a ball with the boy in fifth year, and he had never left me alone since. He- his name was-"

"Tom Riddle," Hermione finished.

"Yes," Minerva whispered.

"He's been after you, hasn't he? Wants you to join him, leave Dumbledore behind. Probably wants you more than Harry."

"Stop," she shouted. She turned around, the glamour fading away. "Do you see what he's done to me!" The dark circles under her eyes were nearly black, and her waistline was even smaller than Hermione could've imagined.

"I feel numb! So numb, I hardly feel alive. I cannot- I can't live without him," she sounded so broken, Hermione could've cried.

"We'll make it through, Minerva, I promise."

"I remember when he used to call me Tabby. How, when I had nightmares, he'd bundle me up in his arms and whisper sweet nothings in my ear, and how he'd-"

"Enough! Minerva, we have to get you downstairs. I can't- won't give You-Know-Who the satisfaction of knowing you didn't go to his funeral." She hauled her Transfiguration professor off the stool, putting another quick glamour in place. "But I am talking to Madam Pomfrey later," she warned.

They were in the hall when Minerva felt like something was missing. She looked down, making sure she hadn't forgotten a piece of clothing, when she noticing a piece of hair obscuring her vision.

She turned angrily to the girl supporting her. "Hermione, where, may I ask, are my hairpins?"

"Professor, do you remember when you helped me pick out a dress for the Yule Ball, and you mentioned Professor Dumbledore had always liked it when your hair down?" Minerva said nothing. "Please, honor his memory. You look beautiful."

"Very well."

HPHPHP

"Hem Hem, is this seat taken?"

Harry and Ron were spared making an icy retort by a rather upset Rolanda Hooch and Poppy Pomfrey.

"Yes, it is, I'm afraid, Dolores," Rolanda snapped. "Two very important people." Ron and Harry glanced at each other in shock; they hadn't known Madam Hooch had ever even spoken to Hermione.

"And who might that be?" Umbridge asked innocently. Ron snickered; obviously she thought no one could be more important than her.

"Oh, only Dumbledore's best friend and the Headmistress of Hogwarts, Minerva McGonagall-" Hooch started.

"-and the most brilliant student Hogwarts has seen _since_ Minerva McGonagall-" Poppy added.

"-which would be Hermione Granger," came two voices from behind them. Umbridge whipped around, nearly falling over. Her expression was comical, slipping back and forth between horror and anger.

"You two," she hissed.

"Fred! George!" Ron smiled, then seemed to remember where they were and his smile dropped. "You guys came, huh?"

"Of course. Dumbledore is the greatest man we've ever met-"

"And we've come to pay our respects," Fred finished for his brother.

Umbridge, upset about being pushed to the back of the conversation, screeched, "The Minister of Magic will hear about you saving seats!"

They watched her stalk off, stunned. "What is this? A funeral or a first year class with Lockhart?" Poppy remarked, astonished.

"Forget her, let's sit," Rolanda brushed off. "I'm sure Professor McGonagall and Miss Granger will be here in a few minutes."

The faculty, excepting Hagrid and Snape, sat in the front row. Molly and the rest of the Weasleys sat on the other side of the front. Ron, Harry, and the two seats between them were located closer to the middle, Ron sitting on the aisle and Harry next to Ginny.

Suddenly, there was a loud outburst of whispers.

"Her hair's down? It hasn't been down since her school days; makes her look younger-"

"-Why, she's barely pulled together at all-"

"-You know, _I _always thought her and Dumbledore were more than friends. To close to be platonic, if you ask me-"

"-Oh give it up, she has a right to be upset . They were close-"

"-Completely undignified, the way she's leaning on that girl-"

"-She's _beautiful-"_

Hermione cautiously escorted McGonagall down the path, but the woman was getting a bit cumbersome. Harry saw her trouble, and began to get up and help, but someone else beat him to it.

Sybil Trelawney slid a shaking arm around Minerva's waist, giving Hermione a firm nod of greeting. Then, she began talking soothingly to the Transfiguration professor. "Come now, Minerva. Albus wouldn't want you to be like this, he'd want you to be strong."

"She's right, Professor," Hermione added. "Um, Professor Trelawney? Ron and Harry have a seat, right over here…"

They led the shaking woman to the designated seat, Ron jumping up to help ease her down. Ron then sat back down next to her, Hermione sitting next to Harry, who immediately grabbed her hand.

Then the merpeople began to sing, seeming to be sorry to see Dumbledore go. There was a rustling of leaves from the forest; the centaurs stood there, proud and unyielding, yet their heads bowed in respect for the greatest wizard of the age. Hermione felt a hand nudge hers: Minerva. She grabbed it and held it tightly. The professor shied away from the middle, from Ron, and towards her and Harry. Hermione sighed; she knew Ron had no real love for their Transfiguration professor, only respect.

Hagrid was walking slowly up the aisle between the chairs. He was crying silently, his face gleaming with tears, and in his arms, wrapped in purple velvet spangled with golden stars, was what Harry knew to be Dumbledore's body. Hermione and Ginny clutched his hands tightly, and Minerva bowed her head, unable to look.

Hagrid placed the body carefully upon the table. Now he retreated down the aisle, blowing his nose with loud trumpeting noises that drew scandalized looks from some, including, Harry saw, Dolores Umbridge ... but Harry knew that Dumbledore would not have cared. Ron tried to make a friendly gesture to Hagrid as he passed, laying a hand on the half-giant's arm, but Hagrid's eyes were so swollen it was a wonder he could see where he was going.

When Hermione looked up and down their row, she noticed hands were all connected, even between two such as Slughorn and Kingsley Shacklebolt. That was a bit odd, but the need for comfort was understandable.

The music stopped and Minerva looked up from her lap to face the front again. A little tufty-haired man in plain black robes had got to his feet and stood now in front of Dumbledore's body. She could not hear what he was saying. Odd words floated into her mind through the haze of grief and penetrated her thoughts. 'Nobility of spirit' ... 'intellectual contribution' ... 'greatness of heart' ... it did not mean very much. It had little to do with Dumbledore as she had known him. The absolute love of lemon drops, the lengths he would go to in order to protect a friend, his contagious grin, the twinkle in his bright blue eyes that she had fallen in love with… She suddenly remembered Dumbledore's idea of a few words: 'nitwit', 'oddment', 'blubber' and 'tweak'.

"This is all wrong," Hermione whispered. Minerva agreed, whispering her thoughts in the girls ear. Hermione couldn't help but let her mouth twitch. Harry noticed and asked her what she was thinking. Hermione told him and he had to fight to suppress a grin. This was a funeral, what was wrong with him?

The little man in black had stopped speaking at last, standing there awkwardly. "Is anyone else to speak Minister?" he called to the man a few rows back.

Scrimgeour didn't get a chance to reply, however, for Minerva McGonagall stood up. "If you do not mind, Minister, I would like to say a few words."

The Minister, trapped between a rock and a hard place, could only nod.

Minerva walked to the front of the gathering. She turned around and began to speak, her voice carrying to the very back of the crowd. "Albus Dumbledore was, and forever will be, my best friend. He loved to laugh, and eat lots and lots of lemon drops." She smiled fondly. "He never turned down a single person, whether they needed help, advice, or even redemption. And he took many people into his heart and care" –her eyes fell on Trelawney- "and always, whether it turned out the right way or not, wanted the best for everyone."

Her voice began to crack. "And he loved Hogwarts," she added loudly, "more than any headmaster ever has, and gave more to this school than anyone could ever dream of. He gave up any hope of a personal life he could ever have to defeat the dark wizard Grindlewald, and played a huge part in the continuing battle against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. And he never asked for anything back."

"I want all my students to know," she started again, "that the Headmaster would want us to be strong. An American muggle once wisely said, 'a house divided against itself cannot stand'. Forget about house boundaries and be one; I can promise you we will need to be resilient in the years to come. He would want us to remember the happy things, and I hope all of you will remember only the best things about him… Thank you all."

There a silence, then Lee Jordan stood up in the back. "I remember the twinkle he always had in his eye, Professor McGonagall!" he shouted.

"Yeah, and Professor, I remember how he always offered us lemon drops in the hallway!" a third year, Rosalina Meadows yelled. A couple 'yeah's echoed that statement.

Before long the students were all on their feet, yelling this and that about the wonderful Albus Dumbledore, and McGonagall could've cried. Eventually, they were placated, and Minerva only nodded and shot one of her rare smiles at them before she resumed her seat.

"That was beautiful, Professor," Hermione whispered, weeping.

"Thank you, Hermione," Minerva replied roughly, hoarse from speaking so loudly.

Soon enough the funeral was over, but not before everyone went up to the body to say their last words to the greatest wizard of the age. Filius Flitwick's were probably the most memorable.

The short man had spoken softly to the white marble, then said louder, "I never said thank you for that, and all thanks to Professor McGonagall for reminding me to." Soon, everyone was repeating the same words, and Minerva only wished Albus had been there to see it. It would've brought tears to his eyes.

'_I never said thank you for that; I never said thank you for that'_

An hour later, everyone had left except for two women. One was crumpled up against the side of the tomb, the other standing helplessly a few feet away.

"Come on Minerva, let's go eat something." Hermione broke the silence carefully.

"You are not going to let me waste away, are you?"

"Never. Now come with me," Hermione held out her hand.

Grasping it, the black haired witch stood up. This death wouldn't be the end of Minerva McGonagall.

HPHPHP

Well, that's depression! Next, anger.

Please review!

-lala-


	3. Part III: Ron

Next part is here! I've never been a huge fan of Ron, so I hope that doesn't reflect here too much!

The italics are flashbacks, and I hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: Don't own it!

**The Unfortunate Necessity of Saying Goodbye**

**Part 3: Ron Weasley**

Contrary to popular belief, Ronald Weasley was not an idiot.

Sure, he was never like Hermione, never doing great in any of his classes, not charismatically intelligent like Harry, and he never had much common sense. No, Ron Weasley was none of that. But he was no imbecile.

He noticed Professor McGonagall always called Harry and Hermione by their first names, ever since Dumbledore's death. _Never_ had she done that to any other student, unless she was extremely frazzled. And even then it was never repetitious.

And yes, he had noticed Hermione solemnly escorting McGonagall to the funeral. He had seen Harry walk up to the two, kissing Hermione on the cheek and laying a heavy hand on McGonagall's shoulder, offering his condolences. Ron had stayed with Ginny at a respectful distance, neither feeling that they had that right.

You see, McGonagall had never seemed to really like Ron, and the feeling, the boy believed, was reciprocated with him. Ron had never been a teacher's pet; it was always Harry and Hermione. Hermione because of her incredible intelligence and thirst to learn, and Harry... well, because he was Harry Potter. Never him, he always stood in the back, the third wheel of the Trio.

Ron snapped out of his train of thoughts when he heard Voldemort's voice echo throughout the Great Hall. Minerva tried in vain to silence the voice that had interrupted her hurriedly planned instructions, but it was to no avail.

"I know you are preparing to fight," the cold voice resonated loudly against the walls. "Your efforts are futile. You cannot fight me. I do not want to kill you. I have great respect for the teachers of Hogwarts. I do not want to spill magical blood."

Most students and Order members, including Harry and Hermione, were looking at the ceiling. Ron, however, was looking up at the raised platform in the front of the hall, where McGonagall stood, frozen, staring blankly straight ahead. Her eyes were shut tightly, as if she knew exactly what was coming next.

"I would make my demands now. I prefer, however, to speak to someone in person. Alone. A leader. Minerva McGonagall, perhaps?"

"My dear professor, you have until midnight to meet me by the lake. Alone. Take this as a white flag, my dear. No harm shall come to you, unless you refuse to meet me. I swear upon the Dark Arts."

"Remember, Tabby. Midnight."

There was a palpable silence in the air, no one spoke for at least two minutes.

"Well," Pansy Parkinson started loudly and rudely, "I never knew you and You-Know-Who were on nickname basis, Professor McGonagall."

Minerva went on as if there was no interruption, as if Pansy hadn't spoken. "And the Slytherins shall be the first house to evacuate, followed by the Hufflepuffs, Gryffindors, then Ravenclaws. Prefects must lead their houses in an orderly fashion..."

"She's losing it," Hermione whispered to Harry and Ron. "This meeting You-Know-Who thing is going to set her off balance. That's going to be his goal, you know, to get her all frazzled, because Minerva McGonagall is by far the most powerful weapon we've got... except for the obvious," she added, motioning towards Harry.

"So what are we going to do?" Harry asked lowly.

"Yeah, 'Mione, you just make us a plan," Ron agreed, "and we'll follow it."

The bushy haired girl thought for a while, then her eyes gleamed. She threw her right arm around Harry's neck and her left arm around Ron's, pulling them closer so they resembled a sort of huddle.

"Okay, here's what we do. I'll stick by her side until she leaves. Harry's going to find the Horcrux, Ron is going to find a way to destroy it."

Ron's eyes gleamed with an unusual spark of intelligence. "The Basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets."

Harry and Hermione stared at him, stunned. "Why, that's _brilliant_ Ron!" she exclaimed.

Ron blushed. "Back to the plan, please."

Hermione nodded. "Then when Professor McGonagall leaves, Ron trails her to the lake and interrupts the meeting if things go sour. He'll have given me the Basilisk fang and I'll destroy the cup. Then we get the other Horcrux that's hidden in Hogwarts."

"We get the snake after that," Harry finished quietly.

Ron nodded along with them, then realized something. "Wait a second... McGonagall hates me! Why do I have to trail her? What about you guys?"

"Well, You-Know-Who would jump at the chance to kill Harry, so that option's out. And I'm a muggleborn, so obviously that's out too," Hermione deduced logically. "Sorry, Ron, it's all you."

Ron sighed. "Whatever."

"Okay," Harry said, acting cheerful. "So let's do that thing we perfected in second year where we act like we would never plan anything because we're perfect Gryffindor angels."

Ron and Hermione nodded mock-seriously, and the three of them walked up to the group at the front of the room, whose leaders consisted of Minerva McGonagall and Kingsley Shacklebolt.

"Potter, _aren't you supposed to be looking for something_!" McGonagall shouted when she saw the three of them.

Harry looked surprised that she had singled him out, and even more so when she used his last name to address him. "I'll get going then, _Minerva_."

He turned to leave, and was a bit more than a little freaked out when McGonagall reappeared in front of him.

"How-" he stammered. He knew Dumbledore could apparate within Hogwarts, but McGonagall… And it wasn't even the lady who answered.

"Being Minerva McGonagall, she can pretty much do whatsoever she pleases," Rolanda Hooch snapped, but her retort fell on deaf ears. Everyone was watching the exchange between the Deputy Headmistress and the Boy-Who-Lived.

Minerva sighed, clasping his hands in hers. "Harry… do be safe."

"I'll try, Professor," Harry nodded.

Ron and Harry took off down the hall, Ron going left and Harry turning right.

McGonagall turned to the bushy-haired girl next to her. "And where are you supposed to be, Hermione?" she asked over her shoulder, while at the same time directing people to different groups by skill.

"Helping you, Minerva. I'm afraid I've never been much good at sprinting," she replied, referencing to the escape the boys had made only seconds ago. "Alright, strategy," she began as Kingsley made his way to the two of them. "We should make good use of the three tallest towers, those being Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Astronomy…"

No one noticed Minerva's hand curl into a tight fist at the mention of the Astronomy Tower.

~HP~HP~HP~HP

Ron cursed silently as he clumsily stubbed his toe on a wayward rock. It seemed Professor McGonagall retained more of her Animagus' form's traits in her human appearance than he had thought possible.

Harry had still been on the hunt for, courtesy of Luna, they now knew to be the Diadem of Ravenclaw, when Ron had met Hermione at their designated meeting spot. The young witch had expressed her disappointment that she could not come with him, for she had much to do. In fact, she had grabbed the Basilisk fang, taken the cup out, stabbed it without much dramatic preamble, pointed at the spot where McGonagall had just disappeared into the trees, and then she had run off, shouted something over her shoulder about Kingsley and battle strategy.

Ron, in his usual go-with-the-flow manner, had shrugged and taken off after his professor, finally catching up with her around twenty paces from the lake. He watched as she came to a stop at the bank, facing the water. Wishing he had asked for Harry's Invisibility Cloak, the boy crouched behind a bush with a decent sized peep hole and waited, hoping desperately that Voldemort would not decide to come this way.

He noticed Professor McGonagall seemed oddly relaxed, as if she was absolutely positive no harm would come to her on this mission. He nervously fingered his wand, trying to remember all the handy spells he had learned that he could use in case of an emergency. He then snorted, what use would normal spells be if he had to go up against You-Know-Who?

When Ron looked up at Minerva again, he noticed with surprise that she was no longer facing the lake.

"Ah Minerva, I've been so longing to see you."

Voldemort had arrived.

~HP~HP~HP~HP

Minerva nodded to the evil wizard, acknowledging his presence. "If I was observing formalities, I would say it were nice to see you too. However, I can safely say I am _not _glad to see you," she said harshly, making sure to rest a hand on her sleeve where her wand was hidden.

"You have not changed at all, Minerva. You are the same Miss McGonagall I met in my first year. Though, I have to say, our first true meeting was a year or two later, I believe."

'Oh yes it was,' Minerva thought.

_*Flashback*_

"_Are you Minerva McGonagall?"_

_A fourth year Minerva turned to face the owner of the voice, her arms heavy with five or six large books. "Yes," she replied irritably. "Could we make this quick, please? I have to be somewhere."_

_A third year Tom Riddle smiled. "You're Professor Dumbledore's favorite, are you not? He talks about you all the time in our class."_

"_I am not, and he most certainly does not," she retorted, turning around. "Now, if you will excuse me…"_

"_I'm Tom Riddle," the boy interrupted quickly. To Minerva, he suddenly seemed awfully submissive. It was… odd. Almost fake. "Do you think you could help me on a Transfiguration spell? I cannot quite seem to get it right, and Professor Dumbledore was busy helping the others."_

_Minerva gazed him for a moment, then nodded. "Meet me in the library in an hour. I can help you then. Now, would you please let me pass?"_

"_Of course," Tom acquiesced immediately, moving aside. "Thank you, Miss McGonagall." _

_She briefly inclined her head to him, then took off down the hall. She had something important to tell her mentor._

_*End flashback*_

Albus' reaction had not been good, Minerva remembered. He had been angry that she had agreed to anything with the 'Riddle boy', warning her that he was dangerous. She had brushed him off then, later finding out he had been absolutely correct, reaffirming her theory of Albus Dumbledore's omniscience.

"Ah yes, the old man was rather angry, wasn't he?" Voldemort taunted. "The next class I had with him, he glared at me quite furiously. He was only jealous, Minerva, you must know that."

Professor McGonagall grew red in the face. "How dare you!" she exclaimed. "I was fourteen, _Tom."_

It was Voldemort's turn to be irate. "My name is Lord Voldemort!"

Her posture and expression turned into a look that, from the bushes, Ron recognized. She was truly angry. "Your name is Tom Riddle," Minerva said lowly. "You are still acting as if you were a child, afraid of a name."

"People across the world fear my name!" Riddle screeched. Then his features schooled themselves into a nasty sneer. "Surely you remember when I asked you to use that name, Minerva?"

"Yes. I declined, you remember."

"Of course," Voldemort scoffed. "And then your beloved Professor Dumbledore came to save you. Pity."

_*Flashback*_

_A sixth year Minerva McGonagall nursed a glass of punch, tuning out her friends' gossip and looking out over the ball. She had managed to avoid her date for most of the night, but she didn't think her luck could possibly last much longer._

"_Minerva?" _

_She turned to one of her best friends, Poppy Pomfrey, and politely asked what she wanted._

"_Are you not glad all that business with the Chamber of Secrets is over and the perpetrator was caught? I can certainly rest easier. And to think, that Tom Riddle saved us all! He is quite handsome, you know."_

_A Ravenclaw, Dolly Miller, cut into their conversation. "I know, Poppy! He is so yummy, even if he is a Slytherin. In fact, did you not come with him tonight to the ball, Minerva?"_

"_Yes, I did," Minerva replied evenly. _

_Dolly squealed. "Ooh, you are so lucky! Anyways I think I'm done for the night. Goodnight, Minerva, Poppy."_

_The two girls said so in turn, then Poppy immediately turned to her best friend. "What's wrong, Min? You seem… on edge." The two of them walked out the doors to a deserted balcony, leaning on the railing._

"_Poppy, I do not believe Hagrid did it," the dark-haired girl replied. "I mean, I am sure he brought that spider in the castle, but I don't think it is what killed Myrtle and petrified all those others."_

"_Agreeing with your Professor Dumbledore, aren't you," Poppy teased, trying to ignore the shiver that ran up her spine, telling her Minerva was right. "I should have known."_

"_Poppy!" Minerva exclaimed. "He is not mine!"_

"_No, but you want him to be," Poppy replied evilly._

"_Oh, shut up," Minerva brushed off. "He is not, and never will be, in love with me."_

_Suddenly, two arms snaked around her waist. "I hope you're not speaking about me, girls."_

"_Oh Tom!" Poppy smiled. "I'll leave you two alone then."_

_But Poppy did not just leave them alone. She went to go get her Transfiguration professor. Because something in her heart told her not to trust Tom Marvolo Riddle._

"_So, Minerva, I have just had the most wonderful idea," Tom began, grasping her hands._

_Minerva tried to pull away, but he wouldn't let go. She shrugged, "What is it, Tom?"_

"_Well, I have decided to choose another name; one that does not reflect my Muggle parentage," Tom replied, grimacing._

_Minerva rounded on him, "What's so bad about being a half-blood, Tom?"_

"_You're a pureblood, Minerva, you wouldn't get it," Tom dismissed, and Minerva thought he almost sounded jealous. "My name is now Voldemort. My followers can call me Lord Voldemort."_

"_Followers, Tom?" Minerva asked nervously, still trying to pull her hands away. She realized she was a bit scared. _

"_Yes!" Now the boy began getting excited. "Followers, Minerva! I already have some Slytherins, and you can get the Gryffindors, and those are the only houses that count! We could do this together!"_

"_Tom, please, you're scaring me," Minerva admitted, but he didn't seem to hear her. He was now squeezing her hands tightly, so hard that it was cutting off her blood circulation._

"_Minerva, can't you see it? We would not need Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore, or even the Ministry of Magic!"_

"_Tom, what are you trying to say?" Minerva exclaimed, frightened. He wanted to go against the Ministry? _

_Suddenly, his voice dropped to a whisper. "We could overtake them, Min. Then it would just be you and me."_

"_You don't know what you're saying, Tom!" She cried, "Please, let me go!"_

"_I believe the lady asked you to let go, Mr. Riddle."_

_Albus Dumbledore had appeared, seemingly out of the blue, and laid a hand on Tom's shoulder. The boy immediately let go of Minerva's hands, and she held them close to her. They were as cold as ice._

_As soon as Tom let go, Albus had moved behind his favorite student, and she without delay backed into his warmth, trying to stay as far away from Tom Riddle as she could possibly get. Dumbledore placed a gentle hand on her waist._

_Tom stared at the two of them for a minute. They were obviously not together, but even someone like him could see how well they seemed to fit together, emotionally and physically. 'You win this time, old man,' he thought, 'but rest assured, Minerva McGonagall won't always rest safely in your arms. You will not always be there to save her.'_

_Retaining etiquette, Tom reached down and kissed Minerva's hand, politely bidding her a good night. He bowed stiffly to Dumbledore, then he was gone. _

_Poppy disappeared once he left, satisfied her friend was in good hands._

_Albus and Minerva waited until Tom was gone, then she collapsed into her Professor's arms, crying. Dumbledore wrapped his arms tightly about her and apparated directly to his quarters. Minerva didn't ask any questions; this was Albus Dumbledore._

"_Are you alright, Minerva? Did he hurt you?" He asked instantly, checking her over for obvious injures. _

"_I am fine, Professor, just in shock. You were right about Tom Riddle, Sir, he is dangerous."_

"_I know," Albus replied simply. He softly stroked her hair._

_He loved her, he was positive. He could never act on it, though. She probably didn't love him back anyway. "I am so glad you are safe, my dear," he whispered._

_And thus a great friendship began._

_*End Flashback*_

Minerva snapped out of her train of thought when Voldemort spoke.

"My dear, there's still time. Join me. Go to the castle, and bring me Harry Potter," the monster whispered, moving so close to her there were only inches between them. "Give me the boy, Minerva, and you can have all you ever wanted."

Tom Riddle had never thought she'd agree, but he had also thought that she would explode on him. Instead, she smiled sadly. "Oh Tom, I am an old woman now. How could you presume to know what I want? All I want is to teach, and to have someone to love me." He opened his mouth to speak, but she spoke again, "And no, you could never love me. Dumbledore was right, I am afraid. You'll never know love, and I pity you deeply Tom. As I mourning the passing of Grindlewald's soul, I will mourn yours too."

Ron flinched from his hiding place as his professor placed her frail hands on the cheeks of the most horrible, evil, terrible man alive. How could she stand it? The poor woman had lost so much at this monster's hands.

"You see, that's the difference between you and me, Tom. The difference between a monster and a man. What is inside is what counts. And Tom, hear you me, beyond this world it will not matter how 'pure' your blood is, whether you're a muggle or a wizard. What will matter is what you learned from others and how you used it. That's why I chose to teach," she said matter-of-factly.

"Tom, you stand upon the brink of the abyss. You still have a chance," she murmured. Voldemort stood still, obviously drinking in her words. "Take my hand. Take it all back. Tom, I can help you."

Somehow, that was the wrong thing to say, for the peaceful look in his eyes vanished and anger replaced it. "Help me, hm? Very Dumbledore of you to say so, Minerva. However, you cannot change me, as much as you could not stop mourning that old fool if you tried. He's _dead, _Minerva! Your hidden lust for him did not save him," he sneered.

"How dare you!" she shouted for the second time that night. "I _loved _Albus Dumbledore, you bastard! Loved him more than you could imagine, and kept it hidden from him since my sixth year! I remember when you interrupted us that night; I was going to tell him…"

"Too late for that, my dear."

"Albus Dumbledore is twice the man you'll ever be!" He slapped her hard, and she fell to the ground.

"Oi! You get your hands off her, you creep!"

Ron Weasley had decided this was a good time to leave his hiding place, tearing towards his professor and Lord Voldemort. That slap had triggered odd protective feelings in him that, besides his family, he had only ever really felt for Hermione.

Amazed by his own courage, he pushed Voldemort back and helped Minerva to her feet. "You okay, Professor?" he asked lowly.

"Aside from the obvious, Mr. Weasley," she replied, her Scottish lilt reappearing, and Ron knew his Professor McGonagall was back.

"I shall see you on the battlefield, Tom," Minerva said to a fuming Voldemort, then turned away, pulling Ron with her before the evil wizard decided to break his promise and be done with them.

Once in the safety of the forest, she crumpled to the ground. Ron kneeled beside her, unsure of what to do.

"Why did he have to go," she murmured to herself. "He left me here… I'm alone now."

Somehow, Ron knew what to say. "Just keep moving forward, Professor, and remember, you're not alone. Harry, Hermione, and I, we're here for ya. Always will be, I promise."

"Call me Minerva, Mr. Weasley," she offered.

"Call me Ron, Minerva," he retorted, surprised at how easily it slid past his lips. Then he shrugged; it was probably from listening to Hermione and Harry call her that for the past year.

"Okay," she answered. Then she frowned. "You know, Ron, I do not believe I ever have told you how proud I am of you," she began. "You might not be the best at getting to class on time, or turning in homework" –Ron blushed- "but you're remarkably loyal, and sometimes that's the most important thing."

"Thanks, Pro- Minerva," Ron smiled. Maybe this could work after all.

"Now," the dark-haired woman started. "We have to get ourselves back to that castle."

"Race you!" Ron shouted enthusiastically. He quieted immediately when he saw her stern glare.

Then a smile flickered across her face. "You will have wished you had not said that, Mr. Weasley." And she was gone.

~HP~HP~HP

Well that's anger, though it was harder to pick up on. It was more directed at Voldemort; I figured Minerva needed a little release of emotion. Oh, and Minerva's playful side? I had figured being around Ron would do that to anyone.

I hope you guys liked the flashbacks! Stay tuned for the last part, and please review!

-lala-


	4. Part IV: Tying Together

Last part, please enjoy! It's been fun!

Disclaimer: Never have, never will.

**The Unfortunate Necessity of Saying Goodbye**

**Part IV: Tying Together**

Minerva McGonagall looked out over the celebrations going on, out at the rubble that was her school.

Aberforth had brought out free drinks, spoken briefly to herself and a few others, then left. For some of the families, like the Weasleys, the happiness was bittersweet. Minerva frowned; although Fred had been a troublemaker, he had always been a very kind and sweet boy. To her, anyway.

Hermione saw Minerva's expression from across the room, nudging Harry with whom she had been talking. "Look, she's upset. And no one's talking to her.. we're probably the only ones left she's got."

Everyone had witnessed Ron and McGonagall running for the castle before the fighting started. Neither Hermione nor Harry had figured how he had been found out; there just wasn't time. It was what happened in the apprehensive Great Hall moments before Voldemort had infiltrated the castle which had been surprising.

McGonagall had been giving strict orders, then all the sudden, she turned to the three of them and threw her arms around Ron, squeezing him tightly. She had mumbled something in his ear, and let go. Next, Hermione and Harry in turn were hugged tightly. "Be safe," she had said to the three of them.

And that had been the second that, after seeing Snape's memories, Harry had decided he wouldn't let anyone die for him. He had hugged Ron briefly, hugged Hermione tighter, then, much to the surprise of the entire hall, dropped a kiss on McGonagall's cheek. Finally, he stormed out, making his way for the Forbidden Forest.

Harry sighed. Dying had really changed things, and speaking to Dumbledore again had made him feel all the more better. But again, that was also bittersweet; the old man had always been somewhat of a grandfather to Harry.

Ron saw his friends making their way to the front of the room, and quickly caught up. "What is it?" He asked, concerned.

"It's Minerva; she doesn't seem happy at all," Hermione replied distractedly. "I mean, the war's over, right? The only thing it could possibly be is-"

"-Dumbledore-" Harry added.

"-because she loves him," Ron finished.

The Trio stared at each other in shock for a moment, then burst into laughter.

"She... She told you guys?" Hermione implored, her eyes glimmering with amusement. "I figured it out, but..."

"You might be the most brilliant student to walk these halls, but we're not idiots! I guessed too," Harry answered. They both turned to Ron.

"I overheard," he said sheepishly. When he got two curious glances, he simply added, "Long story."

"We'll have plenty of time for those later," Harry concluded, and the others agreed.

They were so immersed in their little conversation, they didn't really realize they were at the front of the hall until Hermione stumbled on the steps. Ron reached out to steady her, while Hermione mumbled a quick thanks.

Minerva watched her three favorite Gryffindors in amusement, their silly antics immediately brightening up her mood. They came to stand before her, Hermione grasping her hand. The elder lady smiled at her.

"Minerva, are you doing okay?" Harry asked carefully.

"I am fine, you three, go celebrate." Seeing their dubious glances, she frowned. "Really!" She insisted. "Harry, you just defeated Voldemort. Go take a pretty girl to the floor and have a good time!"

"I don't think I'm ready for that kind of-" the Boy-Who-Lived began slowly.

"Nonsense," Minerva interrupted. "I did not say to go _marry_..." She trailed off.

"Ah ha! You miss Professor Dumbledore!" Hermione exclaimed. Then she became a bit sad. Would the mourning ever end? "Minerva, it has been over a year..."

"And I loved him for _sixty_ years, Hermione Granger!" Minerva broke in loudly, her anger making her Scottish brogue more pronounced. Quite a few people looked over at them oddly.

"Mind your own business!" Ron snapped. They instantly looked away, but whispers got around quickly; it was Hogwarts, after all. Though the Golden Trio attempted to calm her down, Professor McGonagall didn't seem to notice.

"You cannot just quit loving someone!" She shouted.

Suddenly, a booming noise came from the huge double doors at the front of the Great Hall. All wizards turned towards it, the more experienced ones whipping out their wands and pushing younger students behind them.

Minerva stood, the silently undisputed leader of the battle and the gathering. "Who goes there?" She shouted threateningly. "Show yourself!"

"Gladly, Minerva."

The doors burst open and, seeing who stood there, Professor McGonagall swayed dangerously, her wand falling to the floor. Ron immediately moved to support her, while Harry and Hermione moved in front of them, wands drawn. It seemed everyone was thinking the same thing:

Was the man in front of them really Albus Dumbledore?

There was a long silence in which you could most likely hear a pin drop. It was Hermione, as usual, who came to her senses first.

"What was the last thing you told Harry and me when we were about to use the time-turner in our third year, and what did Scrimgeour call Harry in our sixth year?" She questioned harshly, asking the two personal questions off the top of her brilliant mind. She figured this kind of situation –someone impersonating _the _Albus Dumbledore- called for more in-depth questioning, therefore she asked two different questions about completely unrelated incidents.

'Dumbledore' smiled mysteriously, then promptly replied, "I believe I told you that three turns should do it, and then of course I wished you luck. Harry said the Minister called... that he called him Dumbledore's man through and through." The old man coughed, trying to hide the emotion in his voice. Hermione nodded, tears in her eyes.

At that exact moment, something in Minerva McGonagall snapped. She lurched forward, ready to hex this man into the next century. No, that was wrong... more like the next era!

"ALBUS PERCIVAL WULFRIC BRIAN DUMBLEDORE! How DARE you come back here with that stupid little twinkle in your eye! I GRIEVED for you, you bastard!"

By then she had reached him, and, unfortunately not having magic at her beck and call without straining herself, decided to express her emotions the old-fashioned Muggle way.

Slap!

Dumbledore stared at her in shock, a hand on his aching right cheek. It was bright red and it hurt; Minerva was strong.

"I cannot believe you!"

Soon he was nursing another red cheek. Hermione, Ron, and Harry had made their way to stand behind McGonagall, giving their unconscious support. The rest of the hall stood silently, watching the fight in complete awe. There was palpable magical tension crackling in the air, even the younger wizards could sense it.

"I finally accept your death, and you appear here in front of me like I am just supposed to welcome you with open arms! And I, frankly, don't-"

The castle could've crumbled around its occupants and they wouldn't have noticed. For the Headmaster had just swooped down and kissed the words right off Professor McGonagall's lips.

She seemed to struggle against it for a short second, then she gave up and threw her arms tightly around his neck and kissed him back with just as much enthusiasm as he was showing, if not more. Moments later, his arms snaked around her waist, hooking under her shoulder blades as to bury his hands into her hair. However, he encountered a small problem, which was quickly solved by a mushy Hermione.

The bushy-haired girl, having just told off Ron for exclaiming how he would have nightmares for the rest of his life about this moment, did a small piece of wandless magic. "Accio hairpins," she sighed.

Some people who hadn't seen it at the funeral stared in complete shock at Minerva's hair unveiled, wondering how an old woman could have young looking hair. Albus Dumbledore didn't seem to care either way, though, for he had immediately thrust his hands into the silky, black, thick locks. He also made a mental note to buy Hermione Granger a _very_ nice book on the Theory of Transfiguration. Perhaps that new one which had come out only last year.

Eventually, as it had felt like forever, the two broke apart for air.

"I love you, Minerva. I have loved you since the second you walked into my Transfiguration class for the first class of your sixth year," he declared, "and I am forever sorry I did not tell you earlier."

Professor McGonagall giggled. Yes, giggled. "I have loved you since that same year, as soon as I saw the twinkle in your eye," she admitted.

"I thought you hated my twinkle," he accused playfully.

"Contrariwise, it's my favorite thing about you," she retorted, twining her fingers with his. They were about to go in for another snogging session, when an annoyingly familiar cough interrupted the haze they were currently in.

"Hem Hem."

They both jumped apart, when suddenly they heard Ron laughing his head off. "That wasn't funny, Mr. Weasley," Minerva snapped half-heartedly, then said under her breath, "Oh _Merlin_, I thought she was really here..."

"I had to get you two to stop snogging for at least a second," Ron whined.

To the surprise of everyone present, Minerva let out a twinkling laugh. Albus, leaving his arm around his Minerva's waist, turned to the Golden Trio.

First was Harry. "My dear boy, could you ever forgive me? I've caused you so much pain," Albus looked down.

Harry contemplated this for a minute, then a smile broke out across his face. "Of course, Professor. I never could stay angry with you for long," he admitted. Dumbledore grinned, giving the boy a short hug and a kiss on the forehead. "I promise I shall find a way to make it up to you," he whispered to Harry.

He then turned to Ron. "Mr. Weasley... I never have known quite what to say to you. You have grown into quite the admirable young man... Ron," he patted the boy on the shoulder. "One who I would like to face in a game of chess later, if you so desire?"

"Thanks, sir. And I would like that," Ron said, blushing.

Last but not least, was Hermione. Albus bent down slightly as to look her in the eye. "Hermione, my dear. You kept your promise," he murmured, then hugged her tightly. Hermione began to cry. "I am sorry I ever forced you to do so. Thank you, you did so very well. My brave, brave girl."

Harry and Ron looked confused, but Minerva only cleared her throat. And Dumbledore got another slap in the face.

"What on earth was that for?" he asked indignantly.

"For making Hermione make that promise," she retorted.

Albus relaxed, chuckling. "Well then, I suppose I deserved that, didn't I?"

"Yes, yes you did," Minerva shot back.

Harry and the others laughed at the banter between the newfound soulmates, then realized just how many people were laughing. "Maybe we should go someplace. Somewhere quiet, where we can be alone until the Daily Prophet finds out you're alive, and you two are in a relationship," Harry offered.

Ron chuckled. "Yeah, then you'll never be alone!"

Minerva shuddered, "It seems I forgot about the press; they'll be here soon."

"Well, I've just had the most wonderful idea," Hermione began. The others expressed their interest. "Let's not be here when they get here."

"Well, Miss Granger," Minerva began, all businesslike suddenly," I do believe that is the most magnificent idea you've had in your entire educational career here at Hogwarts."

Hermione giggled.

The five of the quickly made their way into the only undamaged tower, which ironically, was the Astronomy Tower. "I do believe I thought I would never see this view again," Albus commented once they had reached the top and he had secured the door against unwanted visitors.

"Professor Dumbledore, how did you survive? Did you come back to life?" Ron asked inquisitively. The other three turned to the old man, curious looks on their faces.

"My name is Albus, my boy, and that goes for you two also," Dumbledore began, motioning to Hermione and Harry. "After going through a war together, I figure first-name basis is expected." The Golden Trio smiled. "And as for your question, I believe that is for me to know, and you never to find out."

The three children looked quite disappointed, but Minerva turned to him with a faint smile on her face. "Surprisingly, I don't much care how you returned. It's more that you're here now that is important." She walked over to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. "I missed you so, Albus," she breathed.

"The act of yearning for another," Dumbledore sighed, kissing Minerva's forehead. "One of the unfortunate necessities of saying goodbye, I believe."

I prefer to think of it as saying farewell," Minerva returned, looking up as to see directly into his eyes. "Then there is always a chance of it not being forever."

"I hate to cut in, Prof- Albus, but I think I know what I want from you," Harry interrupted their embrace. Minerva unwound herself from him, going over to stand with Hermione and Ron. Hermione, who's head was resting on Ron's shoulder, immediately grabbed McGonagall's hand. Minerva smiled at her.

Harry pulled the tall Headmaster down, whispering something in his ear. When he let go, Albus stared at him in happy confusion. "We were talking about it earlier," Harry said by way of explanation, nodding towards his two best friends. "And if you think it's possible…"

"Harry, my lad, let me tell you something," the old wizard offered, throwing an arm around the boy's shoulders.

"A wise doorknob once said, 'Nothing's impossible'."

HPHPHP

_Epilogue_

Hermione stretched, waking up early, for it was a Monday and she had to go to work. She slipped out of bed and made her way to the sitting room, where Ron and Harry were scrambling for the necessary items for work.

They had decided to live together before the war had even ended; it was hard for them to be separated. They had gone through so many things that only the other two could understand. Harry had broken up with Ginny after the war; she couldn't really comprehend the fact that he needed time. Ron and Hermione had decided they weren't good together romantically, for their goals in life were far from the each others. The Golden Trio themselves didn't have a definable relationship; they were closer than best friends, so close that whenever Harry and Hermione or Ron and Hermione went out anymore they were mistaken for lovers.

Brought out of her musing by the sound of Ron swearing, the young woman noticed he couldn't quite get his tie right. Hermione giggled, walking up to him and fixing it. "Thanks 'Mione," he said, reaching down and kissing her on the cheek.

"Yeah, make fun of my height," she quipped, hugging him around the waist. Suddenly, a pair of arms came around both of them.

"Have fun in France," Harry mumbled, pushing Ron towards the door and wrapping an arm around his other best friend.

"Don't forget to grab something to eat from the kitchen before you leave!" Hermione called.

"Yes mom," Ron shot back at her. "See ya Harry."

Ron had gotten a job co-coaching an international Quidditch team. It was his dream job, but unfortunately it meant he wasn't around that often.

"The clock struck six-thirty, making Harry jump. "That's me!" he exclaimed. "Love ya, Hermione."

She gave his lips a friendly peck. "Love you too, Harry. Now get going! Wands don't make themselves."

Harry's occupation turned out to be quite unexpected. After handling the Elder Wand, it turned out the power of the wand actually gave Harry a special affinity with the curious objects themselves. The Elder Wand itself had been returned to its true master, Dumbledore; all Harry had to do was stand back and let Albus disarm him.

After Ollivander and company got back in business, they had some serious wand building to do. Understanding that Harry had no longer wanted anything to do with the Ministry of Magic, even to be an Auror, the old wand maker had immediately taken Harry under his wing. What better way to make a living than to help young witches and wizards on their magical journey?

Hermione stood still for a moment, then began to pull her robes on over her Muggle clothes. She slipped her wand inside her sleeve; one could never be too careful, even a few years after the war. She made her way down the stairs and seated herself at the large dining table for breakfast. Her food appeared in front of her and she chose carefully. One had to be especially well fueled for her job.

"How was your rest, my dear girl?"

"Quite well, actually. Would you like some coffee?"

"No thank you, Hermione. I must say, I prefer a hot chocolate with a lemon drop. Harry and Ron?"

"Gone."

"And Ron will not return until next week, correct?" Seeing her nod, he continued. "Pity, I was truly looking forward to our game of chess."

"If I may say so, Albus, your wife is quite a formidable opponent too," said Hermione, who leaned forward to get a better view of her mentor.

"She's right, Albus, you realize you have yet to beat me," came the Scottish lilt from the other side of Albus.

"Wonderful, Hermione. Now you've gotten them in one of their little lovers' spats. I might not survive this one."

The girl turned to her ex-Potions Master. "Don't worry, Severus," she began, with a mock-breathy voice. "I'll save you."

"Wonderful," he grumbled. Then he seemed to snap out of his mood. "Miss Granger... Hermione, would you mind taking a look at a few of my newer potions? Merlin knows I hate to say it, but you _are_ probably the second most qualified person in this castle besides myself at Potions." He groaned suddenly. "Oh, whatever is the world coming to! Ever since you, Potter, and Weasley moved in the castle, all because you three are too sentimental to leave and Minerva and Dumbledore are _intent_ on babying you all, I've been _surrounded_ by Gryffindors.."

As the Charms Professor of Hogwarts gazed happily at the rows upon rows of her students, the next generation, she turned to the not-so-greasy-anymore bat of the dungeons and looked the perfect picture of absolute tranquility.

"Sorry to quote Trelawney on you, Severus, but _Hogwarts is my home_."

_Finis_

~HP~HP~HP~HP

Ha! You guys really thought I'd kill off Dumbledore? Maybe JKR has the strength to do it, but no way for me! He's probably my favorite character in the whole series. Oh, and Severus was still alive because I needed him for the end, so yeah.

The doorknob saying nothing's impossible is actually from Alice in Wonderland, if you were wondering.

So, I guess this was acceptance, but as the dead person being mourned for came back, it kind of cancelled itself out, didn't it?

Sorry if the epilogue wasn't realistic enough for you guys: I always thought Hermione would teach, and Ron would do something with Quidditch. Harry was a bit unexpected, but I'm getting sort of sick of all the stories that make him a Auror… oh well. If I were him I'd be pretty sick of fighting.

And, sentimental as I am, I had to have the Golden Trio stick together. Sure, maybe eventually they'd each get married and move out, but not quite yet.

Thanks for reading, and I hope you all enjoyed. Review if you get a chance!

-lalala777-


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